Straitjacket
by CSSNDRSTN
Summary: All Alice wanted to do was to save her little sister from heart aches. Who knew that this would be her mother's reaction? Who knew they'd lock her up, treat her illness with electric shocks, making her memory fade?
1. Chapter 1 Grand et Petit

_Okay, this is something I came up with a while ago._

_I've always been interested in Alice history, the part that is black for her. _

_So I wrote what I would consider reasonable. _

_Remember that Alice was born in 1901, and this takes place in 1917 (in the middle of WWI which Edward wanted to be a soldier in). _

_And that is why they speak a little weird, and act a little weird._

_I've hardly written the second chapter, due to my writer's block._

_But if there are some people out there that like Alice' early life and tells me so, I might consider continuing._

* * *

_I didn't know why I did it. Maybe it had to do with getting even with her, but I wasn't sure. I knew I should keep my mouth shut, but sometimes I just couldn't and it slipped out._

I was sitting in my room, carefully watching what happened on the street outside.

A woman about mother's age walked out from the tailor across the street. She stopped outside the door and threw her enormous head with the enormous and ugly hat back and then walked over to the carriage like she owned the world.

I shuddered, and it was not from the cold. The lady was Mrs Petit, and she owned the world. Or at least mine.

Mr Petit was the cities mayor, and before that he'd built almost every building in the small city of Biloxi. The Petit's were _very_ rich, this was Mrs Petit's fifth visit to the tailor this week, and it was only Thursday.

The carriage started moving down the street, squeaking under the weight of the enormous woman. Mrs. Petit was anything but petit. She was fat, loud and vulgar. The taste in clothes and hats were disgusting. I wrinkled my nose at the memory of the hat that now was disappearing around the corner.

That woman truly needed someone with taste to fix her up; she shouldn't be wearing those colours or cuts when she looked like that. Nobody was interested in her many chins and high-red face.

But it was thanks to her and her husband that my mother, my sister and I had this small flat to live in.

It sure was small, only three rooms and not one of them fit for taking visitors. My sister Cynthia was very unsatisfied with the fact that she had to live like this for a couple of years before I was married or Mother remarried.

My father died a couple of months ago, and when he did, our money disappeared with him. We were all thrown out of the house down the road, and if Mrs Petit hadn't been such a sweetheart we would all still be on the street.

But that didn't seem so bad, when you came to think of the nasty way she treated us.

I quickly sat up straight and reached for my work when I knew my sister was headed for my room.

"Alice!" She squeaked and ran over to the window, her black dress brushing over my face. Oh, it was that time of day.

My poor little sister had fallen in love, and the young gentleman who were the object for her feelings had a habit of walking down the street outside my window exactly half-past ten each morning. And every morning, Cynthia would crush me when she jumped over to the window, just so she could see him in his new hat, with a friend or just him, in all his glory.

I rolled my eyes at her and got up from the chair.

"He's alone today, my dear." I mumbled and ran a brush through my black hair. Cynthia only snorted at me, still almost hanging out through the window in anticipation. "And he is not wearing something new." I continued, in my vain tries to scare her off. Still it was true, and she knew it, but her heart would swell just from hearing his name. I frowned, when I saw something else. "And he isn't in such a good mood."

Cynthia gasped, pressing her small hand to her mouth. "Oh, no. What might it be that upsets him?"

I turned around and sprang up beside her when I knew he was just about to turn the corner.

"Here he comes, hopefully we might found out." Even though I didn't like my sister's object of affection, I _did_ like the fact that she was in love.

A tall, dark-haired man walked by, nose stuck in today's paper. The thick letters across the front page said **EUROPE IN WAR, HOW WILL THIS AFFECT THE USA?** After all he was a businessman, he was probably worrying about how his fortune would change. I snorted, now uninterested.

"He'll just get richer, no need to worry." I mumbled to my sister, who'd turned to me with a worried expression across her face from my snort.

Somehow my assurance didn't lighten her mood. Her shoulders fell deeper as she watched him turn around the next corner and disappear out of sight. "What's the matter, dear?" I tried to tickle her to force her back in her good mood, but she just gave me an angry glance and I stopped.

"If he gets richer there is no way for me to meet him. Even if I did, he'd never marry _me_, Cynthia Brandon, a poor widows youngest daughter!" Her voice was filled with loathing and anger.

I carefully stroked her hair, frowning over the fact she'd presented to me.

"Maybe he's not worthy of your affection if that would stop him from marrying you?" Cynthia just glared at me.

My little sister was very much like me. She was small but even though she was two years younger then I, she was taller, black-haired and pretty. But she didn't have the gift I had. I knew that someday, in the future, I'd be happy. I'd have a big family, great friends and I'd never have to worry about money. And I would have a man that I loved, and loved me. How I knew it, I didn't know.

Sadly for my sister she hoped that that fate would meet her as well, but there was no way for her to be as sure as I was able to be.

I sighed, sad I wasn't able to encourage her.

"Tell me a story about the future, Alice." She said, reaching out for my hand so she could push me down beside her. I smiled happily, trying to bring her out of her blue and rushed through my head after something that might give her some joy.

Ever since I was little I'd been able to know things. If Father were about to receive a business-letter, I'd know when it'd come. If Cynthia had lost her comb, I'd know where it was. All those small things I was able to foresee, as the fact about my future. But when it came to our Father's illness, I didn't see it coming. Suddenly one day, when Cynthia and I came back from the tailor with Mother, he lay dead in the drawing room, a peaceful expression across his face, and his hand lightly pressed against his heart. He was still warm when I stepped up to pat his cheek. It was first when I saw that he wasn't breathing that we understood he was dead.

I slowly closed my eyes and shuddered away from the memory. Two weeks later we'd moved in here, and I was no longer able to tell any adult about my foreseeing. Father had been the only such person who knew, he'd told me from the start that it had to be a secret from my Mother. Cynthia knew as well, but she was not able to give me the same kind of advice as our father had been.

I continued smiling at her, opening my eyes again.

"I will, Cyn, but only if you put up my hair for me." She pushed me down in front of her and started pulling and pulling in my long, black hair.

I whined low, but she ignored me.

"Now, tell me."

* * *

_Oh, yeah._

_The reason why she's not "Alice", not the sparkly pixie, I mean, is their situation in life and the times. _

_And, of course, she hasn't met Jasper or the Cullen's yet. _

_And yes, she does have long hair._

_I'll get to that if you** review, if wanting me to continue.**_


	2. Chapter 2 The Park

_I was blown away by the response I got._

_I know it might have taken me some time to update, but I blame it all on writer's block, yet again._

_I hope you won't get __disappointed_.

_This is unedited though._

_Bare with it._

* * *

"When you grow up, you will become happy, beautiful and rich." I said.

"You don't know that!" She laughed, and pulled playfully in my hair. My hand flew up to grab it, but she just giggled and continued her work. "Tell me something true."

"But what if that was true?"

"Oh, no, Alice! Don't try. But if you can't tell me anything about me…" She fell silent, probably from concentration. "… at least tell me something. I'd like to know something nobody else knows." That was very much like Cynthia. She wanted to be special, different. To know something nobody else did gave her pleasure, and me being her sister, she was able to get that pleasure often.

I didn't like doing that. I was so used to my foreseeing by now that I didn't even give them a second thought, but when she put it like this I wished she didn't know about them.

"Oh, well." I sighed, tying to divert her attention. What could I say that wasn't that important? "There's going to be a thunderstorm this weekend."

Cynthia moaned. "Alice, that wasn't what I wanted to know."

"I know that, sister." I rose, and walked up to the door. "But it was my choice if I wanted to tell you anything. Now, come, let's take a walk."

Mother was locked in her room, as always.

I tapped the door. "Mother. Cynthia and I are going out. Do you want to join us?" A grunt told me no.

Mother had become so brutal since Father died. I didn't blame her. She had loved him with everything she had, right till the end, and then he just died. It only pained me that I was now the woman in the house. I didn't enjoy it. My 16th birthday was coming up, I wasn't even sure my Mother would remember it. I hoped she would.

"Come Cyn, put on your hat." I pinned my hat to my hair with a hatpin, and opened the door to my sister. She walked out with all the grace a poor woman, girl in her case, had when trying to snare a wealthy husband.

I knew what she was doing, so I decided to help.

The park was not a very good place for two girls to walk on their own. But it was in the middle of the day, freezing cold and cloudy, so nobody that mattered were out. No wonders Mrs Petit had run of so fast from the tailor's, she wanted to get in into her fancy house.

I scolded myself for being bitter as I rubbed my cold hand against Cynthia's arm. I missed Father.

There was one person out this day, I'd seen him in the park, hence the direction for the Brandon girls walk.

Cynthia gasped and winced the slightest when we saw her love a few yards ahead.

I leaned in, whispering in her ear.

"I'm going to tell you something about the future." Her eyes narrowed at me, as if she wanted to warn me for teasing her. I smiled innocently. "He will turn around, and when he sees you, he will smile and come over."

As I said the words, he did turn around, smiled widely and headed our way.

"Good day ms Brandon, ms Cynthia." I played my role as the older sister. "Do you mind me joining you?"

"Good day mr White. Of course we don't mind. But please, call me Alice." I immediately let go of Cynthia, so he could walk with one lady on each arm.

Mr White was a nice man, rich enough for my sister to have a good life, but he was boring. All he talked about was business, business, and more business. Today was a bit special, though, he did mention the war a few times.

I sighed, staying all the way out of the conversation so mr White could concentrate on my sister. As long as I could admire the small patch of nature around me I was satisfied.

I closed my eyes, breathed in deeply through my nose.

A picture hit me hard.

Mrs Petit at our front door, nobody opening since our Mother still was behind her locked door. If there was a person in our life that couldn't be neglected, it was mrs Petit. She could throw us out any day.

"I'm very sorry, Cynthia, mr White. But we need to get back home." I gave my sister a look. "We are expecting someone." She took the hint, and managed to push away the pout even before it appeared on her face.

"Thank you for your company, mr White. Have a good day."

"Good bye, ladies." He smiled, and winked at Cynthia. I was grateful she could still walk after that; it would have made a big commotion if I dragged my sister all the way home. Plus I was sure I wouldn't be able to.

She glanced a few times over her shoulder before I told her to stop. Who knew who were watching us from behind the curtains? The last thing Cynthia needed was that kind of reputation if she wanted him.

She danced on clouds all the way up to our front door.

"Who will we be seeing today?" She asked, fanning her skirt around her ankles. She looked just like a child. I felt like I was 100 years old.

"Mrs Petit." I unlocked the door and pushed her in.

"Oh no." Cynthia moaned. "That will ruin my day." I frowned at her, and sighed.

"Fine, you can have a 'headache' and stay in your room the entire time. I'll greet her myself."

"Oh! Thank you Alice!" She squealed, throwing herself around my neck. I laughed. Nothing pleased me more then seeing my sister happy.

"But you better be quiet of you're going to play sick." I giggled. "She's just down the street." Cynthia froze, and relaxed.

"Thank you for the warning, Alice."

"You're welcome, now get inside your room." I pushed her through the flat and shut the door behind her. "Remember you got a headache." A rustle and the silence.  
"What do you do when you have a headache, Alice?" I sighed, shaking my head.

"Sleep."

"But I'm not tired."

"Please, Cynthia. Act your age, you're being silly. Just be quiet."

"I can do that."

"Prove it." I giggled when I walked away. The only way of making Cynthia do something she didn't want to do was to dare her. I knew she glared hard at the door were I'd just been, trying to kill me with her eyes.

The doorbell rang. "Mrs Brandon." Mrs Petit sang from the other side. "It's your landlady."

I rolled my eyes before opening for her.

She was still wearing that hideous hat. It hurt my eyes when I looked at it. A wide smile that remembered me of a toad played over her face.

"Well, hello ms Brandon."

"Good day, mrs Petit." I was careful not to pronounce the last t. "Please come in."

Her big hand patted my arm hard.

"Thank you, you're such a nice girl. So submissive." I gritted my teeth behind her back.

She rocked her way to Mother's door. That was the room usually used for visits like these. "Now, my girl, have you something to tell me?" She looked at me like I was an insect, ready to be crush by her ugly feet. I played with the thought of telling her what would await her when she came home, but decided that it would be more fun if it was kept a surprise.

I smiled innocently and shook my head. "No, mrs. Everything is sunshine."

"Oh, are you sure? How is your mother? No, why should I ask you?" That look again. "I'll just ask her myself. Mrs Brandon!" The house shivered under her voice. "Open this door instantly! I need to speak with you!" She banged her fist hard at the wood.

"Please, mrs Petit. My sister got a headache. Please keep it down." Mrs Petit didn't like being interrupted. Her eyes narrowed at me.

"So that's where little ms Cynthia's hiding. In her room, behind a headache."

"I don't thinks she hiding behind anything, mrs. I really think she's sick." Which was a lie, but no one, and absolutely not mrs Petit, could tell when I lied.

"Oh well." Mrs Petit shrugged and started the banging again. "Mrs Brandon, open now!"

"What do you want?" My mother's broken voice called from the bedroom, this was apparently a bad day.

"Well, good day, mrs Brandon, I'm glad you answered at last." Mrs Petit's voice was like frosting on a sausage, disgusting. I grimaced, but kept silent. So did Mother. But mrs Petit never needed encouragement. "I am here to collect the rent, mrs Brandon. You see, you are behind, and I would love it if you gave it to me. So what do you say about opening this silly door and let me in?"

If we'd still be living in Father's house, Mother would have thrown a fit, kicking mrs Petit out the front door, head first. But this wasn't Father's house; this was the toad's house. Nothing we could do could prevent mrs Petit from collecting the rent she had the right to.

The only problem was that we didn't have that money. We didn't have any money.

I cursed over the slow movement of time. Why couldn't my happy place be here already? I wanted to help my loved ones, but it was impossible under these circumstances.

I closed my eyes, the lids fluttered tensely, but I ignored it and leaned against the wall.

My Mother was silent behind her door.

Mrs Petit was starting to get angry; smoke would soon rise from her ears.

Cynthia had for once done what I'd told her.

But what was I going to do?

* * *

_How did I do? As good as the first?_

_Tell me._

_xoxo_


	3. Chapter 3 Trust

_The only reason why I might update my chapters in rather strange hours is simple. _

_I live in Europe. _

_Time difference you know._

_However, I couldn't help updating Straitjacket, just because I know there are some people out there that enjoy reading it._

_And since I'm ill, I haven't done much more then writing and reading._

_I warn you though, there will be direct translations in this chapter. _

_Carry on._

* * *

"Cynthia, you can come out now." I tapped the door softly. She didn't answer me, but if she'd heard what was said just before, I didn't blame her.

Mother was in her room, staring blankly at the wall. I could see her from Cynthia's door.

Mrs Petit had stormed into the room as soon as Mother had unlocked the thin wooden door. Mrs Petit, who had just seconds ago, been terrifyingly angry, was now happy as a child again. Her humour was as unpredictable as the war, only not for me.

My Mother had still only been wearing her nightgown. She had clutched a blanket around her thin shoulders, looking like she was about to freeze to death. I hadn't known that my Mother was ill, but it became clear for me now.

I had followed mrs Petit in through the door, hurrying up to Mother. I placed a hand on her forehead, and listened to her breathing. Taking care of Cynthia through the years had taught me one or two things about health. Mother was not healthy.

Mrs Petit started dancing around in the room, inspecting everything, and talking to us in her high voice. I felt how Mother winced every time it cut through the air. I tried in vain to calm mrs Petit down for my Mother's sake, but the woman wouldn't listen to me.

She had turned to me, with her small eyes even thinner, like eyes of needles.

"Who do you think you are, miss Brandon? Watch out, or I'll throw your family out faster then you can say hopscotch." She leaned closer to me, her eyes unwavering. "Which leads me to my errand. I want the last weeks rent, now, or I'll actually throw you out."

Mother gasped beside me.

My jaw tightened. This was ridiculous! How could this woman think we would be able to get the money now? Three women with no income, no patron, nowhere in the world to get money from.

When she let us live here, she had just shrugged and waved away the question about rent. She had said it didn't matter.

It apparently did now. I knew I had a reason for always having disliked mrs Petit!

Mother had started shaking and dry-sobbing against my shoulder. I ran my hand up and down her spine, to consol her, but she was inconsolable. This was just another stone placed on her shoulder after Father's death.

I tried to talk mrs Petit out of it, trying to make her give us time. But she wouldn't have it my way, not caring about our situation. She made it clear, now or never.

Since I couldn't give her the money, she promised that the men that would move our furniture would come within the day.

She disappeared, her voice calling out adieus over her shoulder.

Mother had calmed down, maybe too much. She wouldn't move a muscle. I hadn't seen her that bad since Father died.

I went to bring Cynthia out; I needed to speak with her.

But neither she was able to talk to me.

If I knew her right, she blamed me for not taking up the fight with mrs Petit as she knew I could. But she was wrong. Whatever I might have said to that woman would only make the situation worse. There was no chance she would listen to me, she would only be more upset and maybe even narrowing the deadline.

I sighed, leaning against the door.

"Please Cyn. If you don't open your door, I'll come in either way." She still wouldn't answer me, so I opened the door slightly.

She was leaning over her vanity, using it as a desk. A pen was dancing over the thick paper, that I recognised as Father's paper for letters.

She placed her name at the bottom and shoved the letter into an envelope.

"Cyn?" I whispered, still in the door. "What are you doing? To who are you sending a letter?" She collected her skirts and rose, the envelope firmly clutched in her hand.

"I'm asking for help. I know we can't handle this on our own." She stared back at me; her eyes cold and her frown deep.

My inside froze to ice.

"Are you going to let this come out?" I mumbled. She blushed. "Cyn, you know you can not do that! I know both of us hate the society." Her eyes narrowed. "Sorry, _I _hate the society. But you can't tell anyone, it will break Mother's heart, and pride. It's bad enough that we had to live here for the past few weeks." She turned her eyes to her feet, flipping the letter between her hands. "Who are you going to send that to?" I asked, my voice a bit calmer. I couldn't stand see my sister unhappy, but I knew I had to stop her.

"Mr White." She breathed. I winced in horror.

"Cynthia! How could you be so stupid?" I gasped. "Your every chance with him will disappear if this comes out, and if he is the first to know, I'm sure he will back of like we carried the plague." She looked back up at me. I hadn't realised I had made her angry. She was clutching the paper so hard it crumpled. Tears were pooling in her eyes.

"Is that what you think, or did you see it?" She said, her voice rock hard and ice cold. I was shocked it didn't waver or break from her stirring emotions.

But she had a point; I hadn't seen anything when she had decided to ask for mr White's help. I didn't know what was going to happen, but if I were going to trust my sixth sense, it would all be good.

I shook my head. "No, I haven't seen anything."

"Then how can you be so certain?" It was my turn to be ashamed. I had yelled at her, taking out our misfortune in advance.

"How can I be certain of anything?" I mumbled. "All I want is for you and Mother to be happy, that won't happen if we are thrown out on the street, you know that Cynthia."

"Then let me send this letter to mr White. I know he'll take us in. He has no wife, no family of his own. That big mansion of his must be quite lonely in times like these." She was getting to Achilles heal with those arguments. "I'm sure, I really am, that he will help us. And think, dear sister, when we get to live with mr White, we can start attending balls again, and wear pretty dresses and just live like we used to." She got my approval with the words _pretty dresses_.

"You have my approval. Run along and get that letter away."

She squealed in delight, and ran out through the door.

At least she remembered to put on her hat.

I went back in to Mother again.

"Mother, please, look at me, talk to me. Cynthia and I have missed you so." That was a lie, but I would do anything to bring back the strong woman that was my Mother. Only she could keep Cynthia in check some of the time.

Mother turned to me, her face blank and her eyes watery.

"What did Cynthia say about you seeing, Mary Alice?"

The first she had said to me since we moved in was not what I wanted to hear.

Cynthia returned shortly after I'd persuade my Mother that she hadn't heard anything about seeing anything.

"I found him." She gasped; she had clearly been running up the stairs. But I wasn't going to scold her for that; from now on I would never scold my sister. I knew that the new were good.

"I know." I said, smiling and took her hand. "Forgive me for doubting in mr White." Her face lit up.

"So you did actually see-" My hand flew up to cover her mouth.

"Mother can hear you." I whispered. Cynthia's eyes widened, but she nodded and remained silent.

I walked over to the door, and when I was a few steps away from it, mr White knocked on the other side.

"Good evening, mr White. I don't know where to start thanking you." I stated, holding the door open for him. He smiled weakly, and took of his hat.

"I would never want you or your family on the street miss Brandon. I am only glad your sister came to me with the news, I would dread to here it as gossip." Cynthia had made a good choice in future husband, I must say. "I heard that mrs Petit, that toad, oh, I'm sorry, miss Brandon, that was rude." I laughed, closing the door behind him.

"That woman is not very fond of us, nor are we very fond of her, so you can insult her in every way you'd like."

He smiled again, and walked into the small flat.

"I heard she was going to throw you out tonight, so I'm bringing you with me. Now." I raised my eyebrow.

"Now, mr White? Isn't that a little sudden?"

"I dare to say it's not." He sighed. He was probably right. "My car is outside, please hurry up and collect the necessities you ladies need and come with me back to the mansion."

"How about our furniture and clothing?" I asked him, worrying over my dresses. I tried to shake the feeling out of me, it was silly to think such ways facing this problems.

"Those will be picked up later, and driven to the mansion as well."

I couldn't help myself.

I just ran up to him, and hugged him tightly.

He froze, even stopped breathing, but then relaxed and patted my back awkwardly.

"I have no words to express my gratitude." I sobbed against his shoulder.

"It's my pleasure, miss Brandon. It really is." I let him go and ran of into Mother bedroom.  
"Mother, you must start packing. Mr White is taking us to his house, letting us come and live with him."

"What are you talking about, child?" Mother hissed. "Live with mr White? Just us women? That can't be accepted." I frowned at my mother, starting to throw out the things she needed on her bed.

"Yes it is, Mother. And we will come with him. It is our only chance to stay away from the street. You will pack, and you will come with us when we leave." I planted my hands on my hips. "Now, hurry."

Out in the hallway I realised that Cynthia had been awfully quiet since mr White's appearance in our hall.

I walked over to find her chatting with him, a small bag at her feet. She smiled and he laughed. I almost beamed in happiness.

This was good, this was really good.

I hurried into my bedroom, started packing my things.

I shook my head softly at all the black dresses in my wardrobe. Hopefully, soon, we would all be able to get out of the mourning clothes, only not Mother. She'd have to wear those for about a year more.

I found myself dreaming of lace, pearls, beading and silk when Cynthia called my name.

"Alice! Hurry up, it will be dark soon. We have to leave!"

Cynthia and I threatened to carry Mother out of the flat as she refused to come with us. Considering the humiliation that would mean of anyone saw her being carried, she agreed. But she would not show gratitude towards mr White.

He wasn't offended, though.

I heard him whisper to Cynthia that his late mama had been quite the same.

* * *

_What do you think of mrs Petit? Mrs Brandon? Mr White?_

_Tell me._

_xoxo_


	4. Chapter 4 Breakfast

_You might not like the name Julius, but I don't care. _

_I found this gorgeous model named Julius, and I just had to name mr White that. _

_If you want to know what he (the model) looks like, visit h&m and check the Outsiders campaign in men's._

_For you who didn't know, the reason why Alice has to state that she doesn't wear corsets, is that during WWI the American government told the American women to stop using and buying them since they needed the steel for the industry, making ships and weapons and stuff._

_That is also the reason why the fashion changed so dramatically from the 10s to the 20s. Not only because the war was over, but probably because the women wasn't so keen on going back to the torture aka corsets._

_That was my world-history-nerd-side for you._

_You might consider this spoilers, but hey, you're hopefully going to read the chapter, so it doesn't matter if you have some background info first._

_I know it's about six-seven in the morning in the US now, but here it's one in the afternoon, so I'm going to update and not care if no one new reads it._

_Enjoy. _

* * *

I woke up from a very vivid dream that night. I wasn't sure if I was going to classify it as a good or bad one. I only knew that I felt relief when I woke up.

My dream had been like one of those rare, clear visions I had instead of premonitions. But I didn't understand it.

And I soon forgot all about it when I turned in my bed and found that I wasn't staring in the wall like I usually did.

Where was I?

Several strands of black hair had broken free from my braid and tickled my neck when I sat up.

I was in a bed, a big soft bed. The room was also big, and light. The curtains covered the windows, but it probably was late morning, since the sun shone brightly through the fabric.

An older woman in maid's clothes sneaked in through the door. She looked up and saw me sitting on the bed.

"Well, good morning miss Brandon. My name is Dorothy." She smiled and curtsied lightly. "I'm glad you are awake. How was your sleep?"

"Refreshing, thank you." She smiled again and walked over to the curtains.

"That warms my heart." She sang, and pulled the curtains apart. A ray of light hit my forehead and made me throw myself back under the cover.

I heard Dorothy chuckle. "Now, my dear, why won't you get up so I can help you dress and you'll join mr White for breakfast."

When hearing his name I understood where I was, how I'd got here and why. Another wave of relief overcame me as I realised that I wasn't kidnapped, and that I wasn't dead. Both of those scenarios would have been awful for my family.

My eyes had adjusted to the light, and I sat up again.

"Thank you, Dorothy." I smiled weakly and climbed of the bed. "But since I don't wear corsets, I won't need help. Tell mr White that I'll be down soon."

"As you wish, miss Brandon." She curtsied again and left the room.

I put on my same old black dress and longed even more after the new I hopefully would wear soon. I scolded myself for thinking that mr White would buy us dresses! Why would he do that? He was already so kind to let us live for free in his house, it would only be rude to ask for more.

I buttoned the last button and walked down the stairs to find mr White and my sister.

I didn't find her, but mr White sat bent over the paper in his dining room. I knocked on the door to be polite.

He looked up, and even though the smile was genuine, I saw it fall a little when he saw it was just me. I figured he wanted to see another Brandon in the doorway.

I hadn't realised how young he was before, or that he actually was handsome.

Not enough to tempt me though. I had always preferred blond, tall men, but mr White was good enough for my sister. And he seemed to think her good enough as well.

I found myself growing fonder of mr White by the second.

"Good morning miss Brandon." I smiled.

"Good morning mr White." I walked over to the chair he motioned me to sit down in. "I think I told you to call me Alice, mr White." I picked up the napkin and folded it in my lap.

"Only if you call me Julius."

"Julius." I echoed. "Thank you again for doing this. I don't know what would happen if my sister hadn't contacted you." He folded his paper and put it away.

"I'm glad she did. I was raised to always help, in whatever situation, and especially people I am fond of." He blushed. "And I am very fond of your sister, Alice."

A sly smile covered my face.

"I'll let you in on a secret that you haven't heard from me, Julius." I whispered, leaning closer to him over the table. He was clearly amused by my choice of words. "My sister is quite fond of you too."

He lit up, brought light to the entire room.

"Are you honest, Alice?"

"Of course I am, Julius. I wouldn't lie to you." I straightened in my chair when I knew my sister was about to enter the room. I turned my head to see her coming around the corner.

It was too late when I realised that mr White didn't know my talent, but he didn't notice. He only saw my dark haired sister walking down the hallway towards us.

"Good morning." She greeted breathlessly when she came into the room.

"Good morning, Cynthia." I smiled.

"Good morning." Mr White got up and pulled out the chair for my sister. Something he hadn't done for me. He hadn't even realised the obvious insult against the older sister. But I wasn't offended; I didn't care if he wanted to treat her extra good. She deserved it. "Did you sleep well, miss Cynthia?" Cynthia blushed the sweetest pink and went to sit down in the chair he held out for her.

"Very well, mr White."

"Please, call me Julius." He went back to his chair. She smiled, and folded her napkin in her lap.

"Julius." I had to struggle not to laugh. We were so similar, and we didn't even notice it.

We began our breakfast without Mother. I knew she wouldn't come down, I knew her too well. And when Cynthia understood what I was trying to tell her, she trusted me. She was so used to me knowing everything that she didn't even take a second to question it.

Mr White was a bit more difficult to convince. I told him that our Mother still was deep in grief, and he seemed happy that he wouldn't have to endure her.

The silence was awkward around the table as the porcelain slammed together. I glanced at mr White, who glanced at Cynthia, who glanced at me.

If I didn't do something, then this would end badly.

"What did the paper say today, Julius?" I asked, in maybe what would be considered a bit too high voice.

He looked startled as he turned to me.

"Nothing interesting, I guess. There aren't any progress in the war, or the business world this morning."

"That's a shame." Cynthia had decided to help me. I smiled so she would know that I was grateful. "What are your plans for today then, Julius, when there aren't anything new to be dealt with?"

He smiled widely at her question.

"I planned, for us, to go out." The fact that mr White hadn't hesitate a second to include us in his plans made him grow even more in my eyes. Not only was he a kind man, he was a fantastic host.

But, being me, I could come up with more then one argument against going out in Biloxi today. Then I knew I didn't have to. He wasn't taking us to Biloxi.

"That's very kind of you, Julius." How came we used his first name so frequently? "Where are you taking us?"

"Out."

"Out?" Cynthia echoed. "Yes, mr White- Julius, I understood that we were going out, but out where? Into the city or?"

He just smiled, and shook his head.

"No, we're not going to Biloxi, ladies. No need to worry about the gossip. I'm not going to tell you where I'm going to take you before we're there. But I promise you, it's not that far."

But Cynthia wasn't stupid. She saw on my face that I already knew. Her eyes narrowed at my expression.

"No, Cynthia." I giggled when her decision to ask him something changed the future. But I wished I hadn't.

Mr White directly turned to me.

"Sorry? Did I miss something?" Cynthia's eyes widened in fear.

I smiled, and waved my hand as if that could get the question out of the air.

"Just a big sister scolding her younger, mr White."

"Why would you scold your sister, Alice?" He smiled. Danger dismissed.

"Since I am Cynthia's big sister, I read her quite well. And she was about to forget her manners, so I… prevented it." I sighed, the cold sweat not really gone from my palms.

"You sound more like a mother than a sister to me." He joked. "Now, ladies. If you are finished, I would like it very much if you go up and talk to your mother and then come back down here to follow me out."

Cynthia and I got up from the table, thanked mr White for the lovely breakfast and turned to walk up the stairs.

As soon as we were out of hearing reach for him, Cynthia grabbed my arm, almost falling to the floor.

"Oh." She sighed, making me take all her weight. "Oh." I giggled, I knew too well what was making her act all weak.

But that didn't keep me from wanting to hear it in her own words.

"So what do you think of our own dear Julius?" I whispered, cautious if anyone would hear us. She sighed, leaning her head back at my shoulder. Thankfully we were both rather short women.

"He is the most amazing, wonderful, handsome, kind, fantastic-"

"I understand that you are fond of adjectives, but a bit more words, Cyn."

"I'm on my way, Alice. If you wouldn't interrupt me."

"Of course not."

"Alice." She gave me a threatening look, but I just giggled. "- man that I've ever saw." She finished her sentence. "I like him very much, and I think it's a very good thing that he is taking us out."

"Yes yes, but that was not what you wanted to say, was it?" She covered her face with her hands and stopped in the middle of the hall. I knew my sister all too well.

"Did you see that suit he was wearing, Alice?" She squealed. She was my sister, without a doubt.

"I saw it, Cyn. And yes, it looked good on him."

"Good?" She echoed, her voice breaking in disbelief. "Good? Is that all you have to say? Oh, I thought higher of your fashion interest than that, my dear sister. It looked _amazing_ on him!" The Brandon girls were known far and wide for being shallow. Or we would have if we were known far and wide, but we weren't so. And we weren't that shallow, most of the time.

"I am happy that you are in love." I smiled smugly. "I'm going to let you in on a secret." If you don't tell Alice Brandon to keep quiet about things you tell her, she is free to spread the word if it was necessary. I found it, if not necessary, good and desired to tell Cynthia what mr White had told me earlier. That would just easy things up between them, and save me from comforting my sister when she was insecure.

"A secret?" Cynthia loved secrets.

"Mr White likes you too."

I thought she was about to faint. She had stopped breathing, of that I was certain.

"He does?" She breathed. I nodded, already knowing her reaction.

And she didn't disappoint me.

A loud and piercing squeal filled the air and she started running and jumping around.

I couldn't help but laugh at her enthusiasm.

"Calm down, Cyn. Don't forget your manners." I managed to squeeze in between the laughs.

"Oh, what do I care about manners when he!, mr White!, Julius!, likes me! You don't act very ladylike either, sister."

"But I'm not the one in love, trying to capture the man." I stated. "I don't need to watch myself." Cynthia froze, and turned to look at me.

"Alice, you know you have to watch yourself. It was close before." The happiness in the air had changed dramatically and was now nothing else but fear and insecurity.

"I know. There are dangers in being too comfortable around you, Cynthia. It makes me forget that not everybody knows my secret." She walked up to me again, and grabbed my hand.

"Maybe we should tell Julius?" She asked. We started to walk down the hallway again while I considered it.

"Maybe. If he is to be my brother-in-law-" She squealed at that. "- and if we're going to stay here from now on, then I think he should know. I can't stay quiet if something bad was about to happen him or his business, not for your sake, Cyn. And I think, if he'd let me, I could help him, not only in bad times, but also in good."

"So, we are going to tell him?" I hesitated outside Mother's door.

"I don't know." I whispered, so she wouldn't hear inside. "But not now, not yet." Cynthia nodded, and pushed the door open.

* * *

_Oh, what will happen next, and where is mr Julius White taking them?_

_Tell me._

_xoxo_


	5. Chapter 5 Picnic

_It won't be many chapters more, I'll just say._

_But I'm glad so many of you like it._

_It took long to update I know._

_And it's not that long._

_I have nothing to say for myself. _

_Only that it is important._

_Vital, you might say._

_And, I've not read it trough, so considering I've got a grade equal to a C, I think, in English, it might be whatever._

_Hope you like it though. _

* * *

"Come on, ladies!" Julius called from the hill in front of us. I sighed, exhausted by now, but my dear sister still had her energy. She giggled and took of running up the hill.

"Why won't you tell us, Julius?" She called after him.

By then he'd stopped, back turned to us and the picnic basket in his right hand.

"Always so impatient, is she not, my sister?"

"Alice, you shouldn't be the one to speak. The impatience must have come from somewhere, you know." She giggled, and froze. "Oh, it's beautiful." I could hear her sigh from ten feet away. Maybe she was overdoing the innocence, but I wouldn't be the one to tell her so. As far as I knew, that was the way of capturing mr Julius White.

"What is?" I asked, lifting my skirts so I wouldn't trip on them as I took the last steps.

I couldn't help but sigh at the view we'd stopped in front of too.

Before us were a little cottage and a small mill. I had never known there to be a mill in our town before.

It was all overgrown by now, the supposedly green ranks brown and dry in the early spring, so there couldn't have been inhabitants there for a long time. The mill's wings were torn, and holes big as windows covered most of them. The one closest to the ground was broken in half.

In another time this would have been the most important part of a village. As it was now in the modern society, there was no longer any need for a mill like this. The tooth of time had taken its tool on our history, making us forget.

"Where are we?" Cynthia asked, still breathless over the sadness the empty buildings infused.

"On my land still." Julius said. Their voices were close to whispers. "This is the old house the old estate-keepers lived in. The house is shut, impossible to get into now. But I like being here. It reminds me of what you miss when you don't look close enough." That was surprisingly deep, and unexpected. As he said it he glanced at me. Had he already understood that something was different with me? That I wasn't like other women? I knew he wasn't dumb, far from. So should I take that quick glance as a warning to keep quiet?

"What do you mean?" She said, leaning closer to him.

I felt like the fifth wheel, I had all afternoon. But I had already decided that it wouldn't affect me, that I wouldn't complain. And then that wouldn't happen. I just knew it.

"Come, let me show you." He said, and started walking over the flat area over to the house.

The basket swung happily from his hand. He was delighted to have female company other then his maids for once. Even Cynthia would be able to tell that.

We followed him, I wary, and she as delighted as him.

Something about this peaceful place scared me. At first sight it had been a dream. My impulse had been to clean it up, restore it to its former glory and live there happily ever after with my husband and children. That might be that part that scared me. That was not the future I wanted for myself. I had never been a girl who'd dreamt about children, neither had love been such a big thing in my life. A while I'd thought about it, but now I knew, so the thoughts had been put away in wait for the right time. No need to waste time on things I knew would figure itself out.

So when I saw myself before my eyes, kissing a tall, handsome, blonde young man, I knew something was new, different, but not necessary bad, about this place.

I realised it had a vital importance to my future.

I just feared our relationship with Julius would affect it.

I wouldn't be able to live with myself if my gift, problem, ability, would ruin their happiness. For as much as I wanted to do good, to do what I could for them and help my family, there wasn't much I could do about others' decisions that would affect my life.

I might not know if a death would fall upon us again before it was too late.

I scolded myself quickly for challenging fate. I didn't believe in fate, but just because you don't believe it's there, it doesn't mean that it really isn't.

No need to challenge anything at this rate. My sister meant too much to me.

As I stepped closer to the mill I got more and more certain of that this was a place not to be taken lightly. Its time would come, and we would have to obey.

What would happen, only time could tell. Or maybe my female intuition.

"Watch your step in here, ladies." Julius called. I looked up and saw that he'd opened the old decayed door to the mill and stepped inside.

He could beg me for years; I would never set my foot over that threshold.

Cynthia was of another thought, she quickly skipped inside.

"Oh." I heard her say. "It's so dusty and dirty in here." I rolled my eyes, leaning carefully against the wall so I wouldn't rip the fabric of my dress. My sister could be embarrassingly stupid sometimes.

But he just laughed. "Of course it is, miss Cynthia. No one comes here but me once in a while, and I'm not the cleaning type." I heard her giggle in response.  
"Alice." He called then. "Won't you come inside?" I didn't want him to know of my feelings about this place, nor the disgust I held for dirt, darkness and the fact that my dress would never look the same if I went inside there. I was too protective over the few dresses I owned.

"No, thank you, Julius." I sighed. "I've got claustrophobia." Lie on the other hand; I could do any day.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Then you certainly shan't come inside. I don't want to carry you all the way back to the house if you faint."

"That's very considerate of you, Julius." I muttered.

I turned and started walking around the small yard. Their voices came happily bouncing from the mill, and I knew my Mother would have been furious if she knew the situation her youngest daughter was in now. Alone, with a man, in a mill! In the middle of nowhere! Highly improper!

I snickered as I stroke my hand gently along the stonewall. She was too old fashioned, our Mother. She had to sit back and let the young people be young. To understand that things do change. That sometimes two young people needed to be alone together for affection to grow. Nobody was willing to open up their hearts in the risk of getting rejected in front of their mother or chaperon.

I was just happy that I could provide them with such a private moment.

The stone, the wood, the dry flowers were rough under my smooth hands. Being a lady, I'd never had to do a single useful thing in my life except being pretty, stitch handkerchiefs and play instrument, the last thing which I was embarrassingly bad at.

Therefore my hands were still as soft and smooth as silk. I liked my hands, but I didn't like that I didn't fit the ideal.

I should be taller. I should be thinner around the waist, have a more hourglass-like figure. My body was healthy though. I wasn't fat, I'd never been, but I had enough flesh to be considered attractive. And I was pretty, I had to admit that.

Why my blonde hero hadn't showed up yet was beyond me though.

But he wasn't someone I knew, so he wouldn't probably wait around in the shadows for me to grow older. He'd just show up, and then that would be that. The knot would be tied.

I was definitely looking forward to it.

An old, forgotten rosebush' torn cut my finger. A small drop of blood trickled through the wound and I quickly put it in my mouth.

Maybe it was time to interrupt the future lovers.

I dropped the hand to my side, the blood already stopped, and went over to the mill.

"Cynthia, Julius?" I asked, squinting through the dusty darkness inside the mill without stepping inside. I saw them sitting on the millstone in there, so I waved them over. "I don't want to whine, but I must admit I'm starting to get hungry."

"Of course not, Alice." Julius said, and stepped out in the light. He looked better and better for each passing hour. Maybe it was happiness. "It's my fault when my guests are getting neglected." He swung the basket and stepped out on the yard. Far away enough, he put it down and spread the blanket.

Cynthia appeared beside me.

She looked over at him and sighed, that adoring, sweet sigh only a teenaged girl in love could master. Not a hair out of place, not a seam different in her outfit. That was good, she'd been able to mind her manners, something that was rare for Cynthia when she was nervous.

"Come now sister, let's join him." I heard her mumbling something more, but it was to low for me to hear. I accepted that she'd tell me everything later.

"Now, my dear Alice." He said, taking another bite of his apple. The sun had come out, and shone down on us. I'd taken my boots off. Cynthia had laid down on the frail grass. Mr White himself leaned casually against his elbows between us. "I want to know what you would say if I told you we'd be going to a ball soon." I arched an eyebrow, looking at him.

"What do you mean?" He grinned.

"I mean, that we are invited to mrs Petit, or technically, I am invited. But being me, I think I have the right to bring two, or three, guests. Whatever I have that right, I will. So I ask you again, in another way though. Would you and you sister, and hopefully your mother, like to accompany me to this ball, or gathering of friends as you should call it?" Cynthia's breath caught, so did mine.

"I think…" I stammered. "my sister and I will be delighted, if you would be so kind."

He grinned, flashing his teeth. "Good, then I will send you of to town as soon as possible so you can get new dresses."

I caught Cynthia's eye over his shoulder. This was just to good to be true. I expected that I would wake up now, staring into the ceiling in our old apartment. But I didn't. I kept my eyes locked at Cynthia, both of us equally happy but for different reasons.

She for she would be able to spend a night out with mr White.

I for I would finally, for the first time since Father died, be able to go to the tailor and get myself something new and pretty. And then being able to keep it.

I fell back into the grass beside my sister.

When life couldn't be much better, you automatically start to challenge fate.

_

* * *

_

_Something you want to happen?_

_Did something bother you while reading?_

_Tell me._

_xoxo_


	6. Chapter 6 Silk

_I know it's been long, but here it is._

_I've actually read some 19th century books recently, so that's why the language might be a little different._

_But more authentic, don't you think._

_Not so many chapters to go._

_Enjoy._

* * *

I should have known who'd have been in the tailor's store, when Cynthia and I visited it a couple of days later. Actually, I did know. As soon as we left the house, I knew that mrs Petit would be there, I just didn't trust myself.

After all those times watching her from my bedroom window, I ought to know that she visited the tailor's every Wednesday afternoon to satisfy even a small bit of her vanity, or maybe pride. You see; there's a difference.

As my sister and I took the two steps up to the tailor's door and entered his shop, I was not disappointed.

At the back, with the tall, leather skinned man running around and adjusting seams and cuts, stood mrs Petit.

My sister didn't even bother looking her way, but ran over to the fabrics and models we would be considering.

It was clear that the dress mrs Petit had ordered and now was trying on would be for the party Julius had talked about.

It was elegant in white, lace and latest fashion clearly, even in a small town like this. It was a beautiful dress, but just not on her.

Maybe I was a bit bitter after what she'd done to my family, but anyone could tell that that dress didn't fit her like it should.

"No, no, no, take more here, and put some more here." She argued with the tailor. I could see how he sighed behind her back; he, at least, didn't seem to have that bad taste. It was just mrs Petit that wanted everything her way.

"Alice! Look at this one!" Cynthia called too loud for the small shop.

Mrs Petit turned around instantly with the sound of her voice and my name.

"Mary Alice Brandon!" She sang, jumping down from the small stool, completely ignoring the tailor and his attempts to save the dress. "How good it is to see you." She grabbed my hand and shook it very un-ladylike. Her entire body bounced with the movement.

"How are you? And your mother? I heard you're all living with mr White up on the hill, is it true? Isn't he a darling? Should I drop by, just to see how things are? What are you doing here? Did he send you to pick something up?" It was clear that she didn't believe that Julius was capable of taking care of such things himself, nor that he would want to buy things for us.

She said he was a darling, but thought clearly not of him as the kind of darling that bought dresses to poor women.

"We're fine, thank you." I tried to smile, no I didn't even try, I just grimaced. "And for the reason we're here, Julius sent us to buy dresses."

"Already calling him by the first name." She muttered under her breath. A bad thing according to her apparently. "Oh, how nice. Dresses to whom?"

"Us, my sister and I. We're accompanying Julius to a ball, and we need dresses."

"That must be fate!" She yelled. "I am buying a dress for a ball too. What do you think?" She twirled so I could see every angle again. "Isn't it lovely."

What could I say?

"Very, I truly like the colour." I hid a cough in my gloved hand. God have mercy on my sole for lying.

But then again, maybe not. I wasn't religious when it came to it.

"White is always white." Mrs Petit's statement didn't make me think higher of her intellect, of that I'm certain. It wasn't very clever at all. Anyone can see that white is white.

But maybe there was something more to it.

"Do I detect something behind those words, mrs Petit?" I asked in an overfriendly manner my Father hated me using. The only times I _had_ been using it was when I wanted something, which I certainly wanted now.

Mrs Petit chuckled. She looked around, but since there wasn't anyone else but herself, the tailor, Cynthia and I, she wouldn't have to fear any eavesdroppers.

She leaned closer.

"I have a niece coming down from the country." She smiled. Mentally, I scornfully smiled. This, if anywhere, was the country. Poor girl if she came from even worse neighbourhoods.

But the clear intention mrs Petit held for her niece was just stupid. I wasn't that surprised that mrs Petit actually thought she could go through with it, neither that she'd think that about Julius. Mrs Petit was mrs Petit, as white always was white. Old habits die hard.

What was offensive though, was the whole idea of making her party a matchmaking situation; embarrass the girl in front of all the people of Biloxi and nearby towns who'd be there.

Maybe I should take this poor niece under my wing and hide her from her aunt's influence.

Or I'll just let it be. It wasn't up to me to make amends for god's wrongs.

"Alice! Are you coming?" Cynthia demanded from the corner. I didn't even look over my shoulder at her. The faster I could get away from mrs Petit, the better.

"If you excuse me." I said and curtsied.

"Certainly." She replied, but did not curtsey. She probably didn't seem to think she needed to with me.

I quickly turned around, heading back to my sister.

"Thank you." I whispered softy when I heard mrs Petit argue with the tailor again.

"What for?" Cynthia asked.

"For saving me of course." I mumbled, feeling the quality of the fabric in front of me. To thin, might fray in the wash. I better find something else.

"Saving you from what?" I rolled my eyes. My sister wasn't that attentive, was she.

"Mrs Petit's here, silly. Now, what do you think about this…"

"Mrs Petit?" Cynthia hissed. Oh no, she might make a scene.

Before my sister could do anything stupid, I grabbed her arm, and forced her to look at me.

"Cynthia! Do not do anything stupid, please. We wouldn't want to embarrass ourselves or mr White, would we?" Her shoulders fell.

"No, you're right." She sighed and turned back to the fabrics. "But it doesn't mean that I want to teach her a lesson."

"Then we're two." I muttered. Cynthia giggled.

We got back to Julius's house before supper, our dresses ordered and paid for.

Julius was sitting on the terrace when we arrived in the carriage. We'd heard about the new called automobile, but one of those had yet to come to Biloxi.

I certainly longed for something different than the smelly horses.

"Well, there you are." He called out when our footsteps on the woods alarmed him. "How was your trip? Satisfying, I hope." I couldn't tell him how utterly satisfied I was now and keep the respect he had for me. So I just nodded, smiled and thanked him for the generosity.

My sister didn't really function as I did, though.

"Oh, Julius." She cried. "You should have seen the new silks he got in the shop! So fine, so beautiful. And tolerable in price too. I wished I could have an whole wardrobe in those fabrics, indeed I wish." I blushed on her behalf as she pranced along the terrace. But Julius only folded his paper and put it away.

"Then you shall have it." He said. I dropped my chin, very unladylike.

"But mr White, Julius, that isn't acceptable. I'm sorry to say it, but we are not your family and…" and here I blushed even more and looked away. "not even if you were engaged would something like that be proper." By Cynthia's gasp I realised she'd understood my hint. Julius, however, had not.

"I am very sorry about that too, indeed. But I will not let something as foolish as what is proper hold me back from spoiling two beautiful girls. Don't tell me Alice that you do not long for a new wardrobe as well. I've seen how you look at your dresses." I couldn't tell him that, because what he said was true.

I looked down on the dress I was wearing now. I detested the thing, how I would love just to rip it apart and make a kite or something as hilarious of it. Then I might at least have a laugh.

"Yes, you are right, Julius. I do hate this dress."

"I thought so. Maybe you should take your sister with you back to town and order some more dresses." With that he picked up his paper again, and continued reading it.

Cynthia gave me an eye behind his back, and I just smiled smugly.

Fate, for sure, was smiling upon us Brandon sisters.

My sister couldn't have found a man more to my liking.

Hopefully the little comment about the engagement hadn't slipped him by totally unnoticed.

If it did, then I might have to help him, push him on a bit. But just if it did. It would be best if I didn't interfere. You can never know what I might do wrong.

Then Mother would have to be convinced too. That would be the easy part, though.

But first, back to town and that silk.

* * *

_A short chapter, i know. And a bit of a filler, didn't happen that much, nor was it that important._

_But either way, i wrote it._

_Hope you liked it._

_Review, thank you._

_xoxo_


	7. Chapter 7 Fate

_What you've all been longing for.  
Chapter 7 of Straitjacket._

_Only three more left._

_Enjoy._

* * *

Our new dresses, all of them!, were delivered the day of the ball. I didn't even want to think about how much the poor tailor had to work to finish them and all the other orders he surely had for the ball in time.

Cynthia stormed into my room with all the boxes in her arms. She threw them without further notice on my bed and started digging around.

"What are you doing?" I smiled from the mirror.

"I just happened to get to know Julius favourite colour." She answered while rustling around with the paper.

"I see, and does that have to do with your behaviour?" I knew she rolled her eyes, even though I couldn't see it.

"Of course, Alice. Don't be silly."

"You must know I'm never silly." I chuckled. "So, what are you doing then?"

"Aha!" She called out in triumph. Standing straight again, she pulled a deep green dress with her. The one she would be wearing tonight.

She held it up against her body, examining herself with the colour in the mirror from across the room.

"You see." She said, still focusing on the reflection. "Julius's favourite colour just happens to be green." She made a twirl on the floor. "It's fate, Alice. I just tell you, fate is what this is." Somehow I couldn't really argue with her on that point. Maybe it was fate. It seemed like it, that the dress and fabric she'd fallen for happened to be his favourite colour.

Fate or coincidence, choose either, but she made me hope.

"Can you hand me my dress, Cyn?" She threw her own on back on the bed and started searching through the other boxes.

Someone was singing upstairs while I brushed my hair and Cynthia redressed.

My black wavy hair had tangled up in the back and I struggled in vain to get it out.

"Oh!" I cried and threw the brush away. Cynthia looked up. "I hate this hair! I wish I could cut it short!" In a drawer by the mirror I knew I had a scissor, maybe, if Cynthia would help me, I would be able to get an whole new hair cut for tonight.

That sounded good to me.

"Don't say that." Cynthia said, handing me the brush again. "Think of Mother, she has nearly no hair at all. She has to grow it long so she can hide the balding parts." I gasped and stared at her. "It's the truth!" She said in defence. "Be happy you still have the choice." She finished and looked at me in the mirror. "Maybe it's my time to help you, what do you say?"

I laughed. "I certainly think so."

"Well, then Mary Alice. How would you like it?"

The only time I remembered the tangle was when she unmade it, after that she made me giggle away with her own happiness.

There wasn't anything that could stop my sister tonight. She danced across the room. The air around her was sparkling, a halo.

She was brighter than sunshine today, and all thanks to the gentleman downstairs.

Which reminded me…

"Cynthia? Have you spoken to Julius today?" She blushed at that, even though she was trying to hide it.

"Yes, I have." She swallowed. "He uhm…" She blushed a bit more. How sweet she is! "asked me for the first dance." Fate, or just an attentive man. He might easily have overheard when my sister and I was speaking about our dress. I was sure she'd talked about the colour.

I couldn't think he lied about his favourite, more that he told her because he knew it would make her happier. Otherwise he'd kept quiet, I'm sure.

"How nice of him." I smiled.

"So you're not jealous?" She asked.

"No, of course not!" I laughed at her fear. "Why would I be that? He's yours, I've always known that."

"Oh." She sighed, and sat down on the bed. "What a relief. I was worried there for a while."

"Don't be. You'll never have to worry about my feelings towards what's yours." I patted her hands. "Now, lets finish this up. We'll have to leave soon."

Mother was gracious enough to not decline Julius invitation.

She was the one on his arm as we stepped over mrs Petit's threshold. But as soon as she saw some old friends she disappeared, as a bird in the winter. I realised that the time being a widow had been a winter for my mother. A social one.

Julius grabbed Cynthia's hand a little too eagerly and dragged her away to the dance floor.

She looked apologetically over her shoulder at me. I just waved her way and tried to make my way through the thick crowd.

I knew more people than I remembered in here. I'd thought many of our old friends despised the Petits as much as we did, but when a party this size was being held something like that wouldn't stop them, apparently.

It was a shame that we had to be brought with Julius to be able to attend it at all, seeing that we were once a part of these circles.

I made it over to a couple of seats in the back, near the punch. The old crows standing around the table glanced over their shoulders at me and then turned back to each other, whispering.

This was a treatment I wasn't used to. It hurt more than I wanted to admit.

Why would I care what any of them thought?

I decided to sit as close as possible to be able to eavesdrop a bit on the ladies.

"How dare that lady show her face in here again? And with those daughters too? It's a scandal."

"How they dare to show their faces so soon after the death? How long has it been? Two months?"

"It doesn't matter, we all loved mr Brandon, and to show up within a year at parties is to violate his memory. How can they stand it!"

"Mrs Brandon should know better, as the youngest. But have you heard what is said about Mary Alice, the oldest?"

"The one walking by just now?"

"Yes, that one."

"No, what are they saying about her."

"Have you ever noticed that the dear mrs Brandon and her youngest daughter have hair like sunshine, while the eldest is as black as any…"

"Don't say the word! But yes, that is true."

"That clarifies what I've heard as well."

"What have you heard?" I couldn't see the women, but I could so easily picture their faces in my head.

If only Julius were here to hear this!

"That girl, the oldest miss Brandon, must be a bastard."

"What are you saying?! You can't just throw such things around you!"

"But I have more to prove my point." She was silent for a while, making my stomach turn with fear. I knew what was coming and I couldn't do anything about it. The only thing I could do was to wonder how she'd found out. "The oldest Brandon is a psychic, a true gypsy. I've heard she knew about her "father's" death before anyone else, but didn't tell anyone, as she wanted him dead. The only reason a child could be so wicked would be if the father wasn't hers, and that she did have dirty blood in her veins."

"Are you accusing me for cheating on my husband?" That was Mother, oh, God no let her not have put two and two together.

I twirled around, seeing that I was right. Mother was standing in the middle of the three females by the punch.

Mother didn't look like she was angry, though. Just calm and tired. Like she was fed up with assumptions like those.

I fled then, not wanting to hear more.

I made my way throw the crowd easier this time and before. It was now obvious to me that all the people inside this ballroom saw me as a worse as plague. Someone who didn't belong here at all.

I stopped by the doors, gasping for air. A heavy rain fell outside, and I knew that the thunder wasn't far away.

"Alice, have you seen Julius? He disappeared a while ago… Alice? What is it? Are you alright?" A small hand was placed on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off.

I turned to her, and when I looked at her face, my vision blurred, showing me the storm outside instead.

I saw the mill, it was night, the rain fell like it did now. A man was running towards it. Julius. He ran and ran, heading for the mill and when he was just below the wings, the lightning struck. He would die.

"Alice, stop, you're hurting me!" I came back. My left-hand fingers were digging into Cynthia's shoulder.

I turned slowly to her. My eyes were filled with tears. How would I say this to her? How could she ever look at me the same after seeing her lover die?

"Cynthia?" I said. "Julius isn't here." I licked my lips, swallowed tried to keep my head together. "He…" the thunder interrupted me. "He ran out into the storm." She gasped, eyes widening in fear.

"No? Where?" She whispered, unable to talk. Just like how I felt.

"The mill."

Before I got time to stop her, she ran out through the open doors.

"Cynthia!" I cried after her. What had I done?

"Alice, why is Cynthia running through the rain?" My body froze to ice. Behind me was Julius, very much alive, very much inside.

And I understood. The moment I told Cynthia about Julius, it was decded for her to run out into the rain. And he after her. So he was chasing her when he died.

What had I done?

"Julius, I'm so sorry." I whispered, now actually crying. "She, I, I, I told her you'd died and she ran after you." He gasped.

"What? I'm not dead, I'm standing here!"

"Yes, I know." I muttered. "But I am…" Here goes, no point in hiding it anymore. "I can see the future, and I saw you get struck by lightning and… die. That was what I told her. And she ran off to get you." He stared at me, blinking, swallowing, and blinking again.

"I don't understand that, and I don't think I ever will. Where did she go?"

"The mill."

He followed in my sister's footsteps out through the door.

I stared after them both in the rain, the party still going on behind me.

Minutes passed, and I ran.

* * *

_Oooh, drama!_

_What did you think?_

_Tell me by reviewing._

_xoxo_


	8. Chapter 8 Fear

_Here it is. _

_Fear._

_I hope you recognise some __similarities_ to the people we love at the bottom.

_Other than that, i have nothing to say.  
Only that, there will only be 10 chapter of this story, so enjoy while you can._

* * *

My legs were short, I wasn't very fit, I'd never been forced to run like this before in my life. But some supernatural force forced my feet to keep moving forward over the muddy streets and yards.

Maybe it was love.

My heart pumped hard against my ribs, and it wasn't all for my muscles sake. I was sure my head would explode from anxiety.

_What have I done? What have I done?_ It didn't matter how I tried to suppress the voice and the pictures in my head, I kept blaming myself for the fact that my sister and Julius were in danger for their lives.

It was far to the mill from mrs Petit's house, and I cried the whole way. The salt mixing with the sweet water falling from the sky.

How did I manage to run, cry and scream at myself in my head at the same time? You know women; have a thing for doing multiply things at the same time. But for once I cursed myself, everything from my dark hair to my visions.

_How could I be so stupid? _

I did never catch up with Julius. But I never lost him. He ran past the gates to his estate without looking back once. I didn't know if he knew I was following him, I only knew that I had to keep going. I couldn't let him out of my sight.

Over the hill, we ran and I heard how he started screaming.

"Cynthia!" He cried through the storm. He was desperate. I had been right, like I always was. He loved her. He loved her enough to run out in a storm chasing after her. He loved her enough to risk his own life for hers.

My feelings, my affection for my sister would never come close to that.

"Cynthia!" He didn't give up. How could he? Giving up on my sister was like for him to give up on himself.

The mill was close now, we could see it in the distance. I had no power left in my body, I had nothing left to take from to keep going after Julius.

I sank to the wet, dirty ground, my dress ruined forever. I couldn't force myself any further.

But Julius kept going. He kept running. I could see the silhouette of my sister by the mill, and I could see how she was searching, still unaware of the fact that the man she was trying to find was right behind her, prepared to take her home, to safety.

My tears started to fall heavily again as I saw how the lightning would strike down within seconds. Julius and my sister were both close enough to be hurt when that happened.

"Julius! Cynthia! Get down!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. I prayed to God that they would hear me. And it seemed like they did, my high voice must have been able to cut through the howling storm. They fell to the ground, Julius's arms wrapped around my sister to make her safe, so she wouldn't hurt when landing on the soft ground.

The moment after the ray of electricity hit the top wing of the mill and the building took flame.

The fire ate its way quickly through the soaked wood, and the mill was soon burning like a comforting candle in the night after a nightmare. Only this nightmare hadn't ended yet.

I had a feeling.

My sister and her love were crawling as fast as they could away from the fire. Their bodies, our bodies, glowed in a strange golden light. Even from this distance I could feel the warmth of the fire against my skin.

I started shaking, from shock and cold. My clothes were wet straight to the bone and my hair clung to my skin.

I shook like a leaf, the fear still gripping on my neck.

"Alice." Julius gasped as they crawled up next to me. He lay down flat on his back, drinking in the rain and trying to catch his breath.

Cynthia didn't say a word; she just stared at the burning building. Sorrow, guilt and relief were etched across her face, and I could only be glad that she hadn't been closer. The world wouldn't be the same without my sister.

Julius laid his hand on mine. "Thank you." I tried to smile, but I was sure it only came out as a terrified look. I didn't know how to control my facial muscles yet.

The fire, our breathing and the rain calmed down. Julius got back up on his feet and told us we should get back to the house, and let the fire have it's way. There was nothing none of us could do anymore.

I was vain enough to try to brush the mud from my dress. It didn't do any difference.

"She is my daughter!" My head throbbed, my muscles ached and my mind screamed out in pain when I woke up after the nightmare. It was early morning, I could tell from the lack of light shining through the blinds.

And there was no mistaking my Mother's voice, screaming at Julius down stairs.

"You've been very kind to us, mr White. And I'm grateful for you letting us stay in your house, but again she is my daughter, she is unmarried, I have the right to decide what is best for her!" I sighed. And I had been so sure that she'd accept the fact that Cynthia would marry before me. I had thought that Mother would cry in happiness over having such a son-in-law like Julius. Why couldn't Mother just be open minded, and accept that they loved each other even though Cynthia only was 16. Love could wake at such a young age and last forever, I was sure.

"Please, mrs Brandon, this is wrong. Alice haven't done anything for you to treat her like this!" I gasped in shock. It wasn't about Cynthia and Julius? It was about me? What had I done?

I recoiled in fear. The gossip yesterday, the vision spoken out loud, the running through the rain, the fire, the mud, it all came back.

My Mother was like all humans, and this was the reason why Father had told me to never tell her. She wasn't to be trusted with my secret since she couldn't handle it. She couldn't accept it, and now she was doing something I only could imagine about it.

Footsteps were coming up the stairs.  
She wouldn't come into my room without knocking, would she? I was a lady after all.

It appeared that she would.

Without as much as a greeting, not a good morning, or How are you Alice, she threw the door open, and stomped into my room. She didn't seem to be ill with grief any longer. Only mad with disappointment and disgust. She had just recently found out that her oldest daughter was something of a witch, a changeling that didn't belong here. She told herself that this couldn't be true, that there wasn't anything such as witches, werewolves or vampires. Her daughter was only mentally ill, or that was what she would tell the others when they asked where the lively, sparkling miss Alice where. And Mother was doing the only thing her narrow-minded brain could come up with.

She would send me to the madhouse. Hopefully then she would be able to forget about all this.

"Get up." She commanded. I did as I was told. I already knew that I wouldn't be able to win this fight. I had lost before it had started.

All I had to do now was behave as the lady I was brought up to be, and maybe this would be less painful for all of us.

"There will come a car for you soon, Mary Alice." Mother pronounced the names she'd chosen for me with disgust, as if she didn't know me anymore.

How could she not see that I was still the same person? I'd lived with the pictures in my head my whole life, and they'd affected my personality up till now, therefore if she loved my old self, she should love my new. I was still Alice.

"In the car there will be men, and the men will take you to New Orleans, and there you will receive treatment for your illness. Hopefully, you will be healthy and restored, but if you're not, then the facility will be your home. Do you understand?" I swallowed. She was serious about this. My knees almost buckled under the weight of the fact that I was no longer wanted. She was right, she was my mother, and I knew that even though Julius wanted me to stay, the only way he'd been able to force her was if we were married. I could never marry Julius, just for the simple reason that I wasn't Cynthia. I couldn't break her heart to save my own skin.

I nodded, I understood her perfectly well.

"Good. There will be no breakfast for you this morning. Neither are you allowed to say good-bye to your sister or mr White. You're a bad soul, Mary Alice, and those should be treated like it. I'm just sorry that I haven't been able to see it before today, hopefully then I'd been able to draw the poison out of this family earlier." So she blamed me for Father's death now. Tears dripped down my thin nose. If she only knew, if she only knew.

The men in white arrived not long after. I was sitting on my bed, still in my nightgown when they, big and muscular, walked into my room.

"Good morning." I smiled through my tears. They were taken aback. I was sure they'd expected a screaming mad woman. But I didn't felt like screaming today, all my will to live had run out of me when my Mother had forced my family out of my life. When she told me that I no longer was a part of the family.

"Good morning, miss Brandon." One of the men said. He was a bit taller, brown-haired, not as muscular. He reminded me of someone I had yet to met, someone I didn't know the name of. I trusted him. I trusted the gently look in his eyes when he looked at my broken frame.

"Are you able to walk, or do you want me to carry you?" The other said. He was dark and large. Soft blue eyes were worried about my comfort. It was wrong for this man to be worried. He should laugh.

"I can walk." I smiled, and got up on weak legs. "I need to keep some pride, gentlemen." The brown-haired let me take the steps over to them by myself, but as soon as I reached them, he grabbed my elbow and helped me down the stairs.

"Good bye, Julius, Cynthia." I whispered as I was walking down the hall towards the doors. The servants were silently looking at me as I walked with my escort. I struggled to hold my head high, to make myself believe that I was the Queen, that this wouldn't affect me.

I wasn't at all convincing. Not even to myself.

"I wish you the bests of luck." The words brushed over my lips, hardly a whisper, but I knew they could hear me. I knew that they would come true.

I had a feeling.

* * *

_Is she seeing what she wants to see, or are they actually people as similar to the once we love?_

_Who knows.  
I don't._

_Review._

_xoxo _


	9. Chapter 9 Madhouse

_This haven't been 'beta'ed, but since i knew there was a few who wanted an ASAP update, i thought i could give you what i had._

_As i say, what you read is what i wrote, non the more none the less. _

_It's five to 24 here, so, i'm not in the mood for reading through._

_Hope you like it._

_Good night._

* * *

The time spent at the madhouse was a blur, I don't know how long I was locked up in my little cell. I have no idea how many times they electrocuted me. But with time I grew used to it. It sounds horrible, morbid even, but that was how it was.

I kept getting visions, that part of me didn't disappear. But everything else did.

As men in white coats scuffed me from room to room, I couldn't remember the name of my sister.

How did silk feel against your bare skin?

What did strawberries taste like?

Wait a minute, strawberries, what was that again?

How did you laugh?

Happiness, why did that word ring a bell?

Why did I recognise words like wife, medication and problem, but couldn't explain them?

My hair fell to the floor as soon as I stepped into the stone building. Sanitary reason a blond doctor told me.

Sanitary reason?

Was that connected with sanity?

He was the only one I could recognise after each of the treatments. He was old, very old, the skin was hanging in bags around his eyes, across his jaw. But he didn't seem to notice it. He was full of life and ice cold at the same time.

After a week I stopped recoiling when he touched me. The warmth of my own body had disappeared together with my hair.

After a month I didn't look up when the men came to get me for the thing I always did. What was it now? I didn't remember. I just knew that I could count to seven bones on each side of my chest. I had bumps sticking out through my pale skin on my knees, wrists, and elbows. Was that how you were supposed to look?

I didn't see anyone else who looked like me. I didn't see anyone. Only the men who came like angels once in a while, locked my cell door open, picked me up if they were nice, pushed me in front of them if they weren't.

Once in a while I had to wait before being buckled to the bed. Once in a while I could hear screaming from somewhere else, but I didn't know where that place was.

After two months the few words, the screams at night, the whistle through the corridor was like the music of heaven.

My eyes were sore, there was no longer any reason for me to open them. I had the eyes in my head that told me what would happen, which way I should turn my body to avoid contact with a wall or a white coat.

If it was something I still knew, sitting in the darkness of my cell, it was pain. White pain was my constant companion. Black oblivion was always hovering over my shoulder.

One night, the oblivion had taken over and the pain was forgotten for a while. I was cold that night. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't dream, I couldn't see. There was nothing I could do about it.

I had a feeling, though, this wasn't like the other nights. Tonight wouldn't end up with me alive. I just knew.

I looked down at myself through the blanket. I couldn't see with my eyes in the darkness, but I knew what I looked like. Or did I? My hands came to my face to reassure myself that it felt right, that I hadn't lost anything important during the night.

I was sitting up, inspecting my body with my fingers so that everything still was attached to me when the door to my cell flew open. I hadn't heard any lock opening, had I? A wind blew past me and in the next moment I was flying.

But, it still felt like I was lying on my bunk, it was still uncomfortable. Hard edges were still cutting into my bones. And I felt something brush against my naked skin, water and wind. Freedom.

I started crying, a reaction I couldn't understand. I knew there must have been something strange with me tonight! Why would I else start leaking? Where did I break? I need to find the hole and fix it before the doctor comes and see me falling in pieces, flaking off like the walls in my cell. Maybe that was what you were supposed to, maybe that was why they kept scuffing me into that room with the buckles and the bed.

Maybe I would be healthy soon.

I sighed, letting the water leaking from above me hit my face. And I heard something.

Breathing. Yes I was sure of it. And it felt like I was moving, only not flying, I'd imagined flying being smooth, and not bumpy like this.

"Stay away from her!" Now I was sure something wasn't as it used to be. Why was there a voice and sounds coming from close to me? I hadn't done anything had I?

"You see, old man, that is not your decision to make." Another, smoother voice came from further away but still close. I was still unable to see anything, but if I had been able to see, I don't think I'd wanted to see the owner of that voice.

The white pain returned and brought an old friend, fear.

"You will stay away from her."

"And how will you stop me?" I touched the ground, withering and shaking in fear and pain. How could something as horrible make me feel so at home? I felt comfortable in fear since I knew there was something I should remember involving it. I felt comfortable in pain since I knew that there would be a time when there wouldn't be pain.

The pain reached my heart, squeezed and pulled in every muscle in my body.

I wasn't so sure that this pain would go away. It felt to me like it intended to stay.

It sounded like blocks of rock were dropped on each other around me, but I couldn't be more afraid than I already was, so I didn't take any notice to it. Only when the sound of something being ripped apart was able to worm its way into my mind. Only the all too familiar smell of fire broke through my haze.

Together with the burning matter, the last pieces of my life and humanity was burned out of my body.

* * *

_Remember that it was the old vampire who turned Alice._

_Thanks for reading._

_So, jazzykins, my loyal reviewer and all of you others who makes my day with alerts, what did you think?_

_Did i meet your expectations? Or was it too short?_

_Tell me._

_xoxo_


	10. Chapter 10 Philadelphia

_Thank Patrick Wolf for this one, y'all. If he hadn't been such a wonderful singer and musician this would still be unwritten._

_Last chapter of Alice, hope you like it._

_Jazzykins, sorry, I didn't write all the way to Bella. I just felt like this story ended with Jasper._

_But if I'm asked to, I might write one or two more chapters, epilogues if you want, with Jalice meeting the Cullens, and Jalice and Cullens meeting Bella._

_All you have to do is to review and tell me you'd like to read something like that, and I might write it._

_As for now, the last chapter of Straitjacket._

* * *

"_Philadelphia." A whisper across the grounds where the sun would reach out and kiss every leaf. A whisper of hope, and a whisper of serenity. _

I blinked, first slowly then quicker.

Before my eyes there was only one thing, I could only see one thing though I knew that wasn't before me.

"Jasper." I breathed. In vain I reached out my hand to touch his golden curls, the white skin. But of course, I couldn't. Why would I be able to touch my vision now, when I hadn't before?

My hand fell back against my side. It brushed against grass, but the touch didn't tickle me, nor did I feel the cold from the small drips of dew.

But none of this became me, the blonde curls and the soft honey eyes was far more important than the difference in body temperature I wouldn't notice.

I sighed softly. The air didn't leave my lungs in mist, but this wasn't something I would mind. Was there any other way for air to abandon my lips in?

I sat up. The decision to move hadn't reached my mind before my body had responded to it, and the vision before my eyes changed as unexpectedly.

In my head it felt like I lost balance for a while, but my body was still. My eyes rolled in my head, but I got up anyway. Why would something like that stop me?

I looked around for the first time. In awe I admired the high pillars of brown with green attached. _Trees_, my mind told me, _and the green is called leaf_.

"Leaf." I tasted the word in my mouth. It didn't feel nearly as good as Jasper, but the word had a beauty to it.

In a fit of happiness, I got to my feet and started spinning below the treetops. Glitter in silver and gold snuck down between the lace above my head. It touched my bare arm and neck and I glittered as well. It made me even happier to know that the sunlight would do this to your body. The world was such a beautiful place.

I wondered where among the trees Jasper were hiding out. I wondered if I was supposed to go find him, or if he'd come to find me.

I fell bored with spinning and dancing, and decided to take matters in my own hands. Finding him would be much faster than waiting, and much more fun. I took off through the world I knew, which turned out to be much bigger than I'd thought. After a while, I reached the edge of the trees, they just abruptly ended, and there was no longer anything between me and the endless sky.

Here my mind told me to stop, sit down and wait. I pouted, but doing as it told me.

Why would I have to wait? What did it matter if I went beyond the forest? I wanted, no, needed to find Jasper.

My mind told me that that feeling in my heart, that cold, throbbing thing reaching for my throat, was called loneliness.

Apparently my mind knew a lot more than I did, so I sat down among the roots just a few steps from the edge.

I stared in front of me, which just happened to be the direction of the world. Outside, it was still light, the gold and silver from the sky wasn't as clear, but I could still see it dancing across the ground and thickets.

I smelled something closing up to me before I saw or heard it.

My body was still, breathing slow as I sucked the scent in with all of my might, the delicious sent. Clearly I wasn't alone in this world. Could this be Jasper? It wouldn't surprise me if he smelt this good, it just made sense with those looks. I just figured I would have a hard time staying sane in his presence if he walked around smelling like that.

Hard breathing and something else reached my ears as I pondered of the fact that Jasper maybe would mind me on his back all the time. I hoped he wouldn't, but you just couldn't be sure, could you.

But the breathing and the wet thump-thump abruptly interrupted my thoughts. Made it impossible to stay coherent.

My tongue darted out, tasted the air. A shuddered raked through my body, and I turned my head to the sun in anticipation in what was about to reach me from across the world.

Dark hair and dark skin, blood pulsating below that skin and I was lost. I started running, my instinct taking over long before my mind had any chance at all.

I had time to notice, though, that this skin didn't glitter in the sun. It didn't reflect the beauty, it was just warm, soft, and dull. I was bored with looking at this something before I'd even started. The only thing that didn't loose my attention was the blood calling my name, begging me to drink it. And who was I do refuse?

So I drank. The body in my arms didn't resist me for too long, and when it was dry, I dropped it to the ground.

Was this why I'd stayed among the trees before? I wondered as I watched the sun upon my skin again, comparing with the pile on the ground.

I noticed then the face. The eyes and the nose. The mouth and the way it looked like it was about to scream in terror but the cry had never gotten time to reach the lips before I'd killed it.

I stumbled backwards, covering my blood-soaked face in my hands. I recognised myself in that face, in those pairs of eyes, in that scream of terror. But the dead cold body didn't blame me. It was my own body that blamed me. It was my own flesh that was repulsed by my sudden behaviour. It felt like my head was going to explode. In this moment of confusion, my visions raced before my eyes, faster and faster by the second.

Jasper, and others like him, not similar but same, more blood, more people, places I'd never seen. And the world was turning. I didn't want the blood inside of me, but what could I do now. There wasn't anyway for me to get rid of it, it was inside of me, and I just had to deal with it.

I backed even further away from the dead female on the dry grass and ran.

I turned to the north, feeling in my stomach, in the pit of my guts, the hole deep enough to swallow all the blood of the world, that this was the path to happiness.

The path to Jasper.

I had killed someone, that much I knew. And I knew that that was something inexcusable. I just hoped that my love would look passed the things I'd done within the first hours of my life, and not see me for my actions, but for me.

I ran across the land, and swam across the water. I fought hard every time I caught the smell of blood, but it wasn't many times I could resist it.

Sorrow and fear ripped through me every time I left a cold body behind, carefully whipping of my face on the ripped fabric barely covering my body.

Next time I saw to my needs for blood, I stole the clothes too. It repulsed me even worse, that I did not only kill the young girl, I didn't just steal her future and dreams, I stole her clothes too.

As I walked away from her, with the worst feeling of guilt I'd felt this far, I had a vision.

Jasper was hunting, and he wasn't hunting a human. He launched against the elk, and brought it down swiftly.

There couldn't have been anything to comfort me more at this point. I was so relieved I wanted to… I don't know, but I sure was happy. This vision meant that I didn't have to feed from people like some common parasite. I could eat animals, and that thought didn't make me feel bad at all. Just relived and light as a feather.

Next time I fed, it wasn't from a human.

Next time I ran pass _that_ scent, I stopped breathing and forced myself to continue.

I sighed, running my finger round and round and round the glass-edge. The water in it was still untouched. I'd just ordered it for a reason to be sitting here.

It had made me angry at first when I'd realised that I would have to wait this long to find Jasper. Every time I'd decided to find him, I saw him running away. Through the years, I'd been able to see him much more clearly, not just his face, but his actions and the other vampires around him.

By this time, I'd recognised myself in the creature vampire, a monster often seen in human horror stories. I'd actually gone to see a vampire movie, just to see how the were portrayed. Not much was right, but the whole picture was somewhat the same.

These days I could even sit in a small room like a movie-theatre without killing or even moving a hostile muscle in the wrong direction. I knew Carlisle would be proud of me.

So when I'd reached Philadelphia, the city that would make all the difference in my lonely half-life, all I could do was wait. I'd been waiting for 10 years now.

Something was holding him up, something was keeping him away from me.

This day would be different, it seemed. Without looking at the clock hanging on the wall, I could count the minutes until he would walk through the door.

But the possibility was still that he wouldn't, that something else would come up again and he would walk away.

I was so used to everything going my way, and never changing course that it was beyond annoying that this part of my life never seemed to fall into place.

It was pouring down outside the dirty window of the diner. There weren't many people in here, but I knew that even this might be a problem for Jasper. I would have to make sure he got out as soon as possible.

I started tapping my fingers against the counter. I was easily bored, and frankly there wasn't that much going on in here that could occupy me.

It hadn't been long since I fed, but trusting my visions I'd have to take Jasper with me soon. He seemed to be in a pretty bad shape. I wonder if he preferred elk, seeing that he…

Before I even had the chance to end that thought, I gasped.

I felt like I was starring in one of those cheesy romantic dramas, and this was the part where the heroine realised that the love of her life was close.

I slowly turned in my seat. With my vampire sight I could see him walking down the streets.

I quickly withdrew my hand from the glass, knowing I wouldn't be able to not smash it in my excitement.

Finally! Finally, the goal with the last 40 years was approaching, and he wasn't running away anymore. He would, I knew because I saw it as clear as I saw my hand before me, walk straight into the dinner today. The meaning of my life would still be him, but this time we would spend eternity together, instead of me chasing after him.

He hadn't seen me when walking up to stand in the cover outside the window. I fought the need to walk up and press my palm flat against the glass, just to have some sort of closeness to him.

The feeling of looking at him from a distance, through a glass like a TV or a fishbowl was suffocating. It was hard to convince myself to still believe in my vision that he would still step into the dinner. Step in here and see me.

Slowly, it felt like it took him thousands of years, he opened the door and stepped inside.

The deepest of sighs escaped my body when I for the first time saw him. Yeah, yeah, I'd seen him before, but not like this. Nothing could compare to this.

Rock after rock lifted from my shoulder and took off, as I slid down from the high barstool. I did my best to not scare him away as I strolled over to him.

I didn't seem to manage, his eyes was definitely not friendly, with them being all narrow and pending.

I just didn't find in me to care.

"You've kept me waiting." I could hold back anymore. I just had to let out the feeling of completeness I felt when being close to him.

"I'm sorry, ma'm." He answered, bowing his head slightly.

He sent me flying with the grin on his lips as he understood who I was, and that I wasn't going anywhere tonight. Without him.

I wasn't going anywhere, ever from now on, without him.

He didn't know it yet, but soon he wouldn't want me to either.

Some times, I just had a feeling, you know.

* * *

_  
_

_I'll let you in on a secret.  
Before I wrote this I wasn't that into Alice, she wasn't my favourite character among the Cullens, even though I must admit I love dress up and shopping myself. Rose, and her temper, has been my favourite, but after this story, which wasn't that great in the beginning, just some small thing I came up with one night, my feeling for Alice has warmed up, a lot. My Alice, my human Alice, is a calm, collected young woman. The SM Alice, the vampire Alice, is not. And I'm glad that I was able to somehow, make her my own. And explain all the small things about Alice that you don't think about that much while reading, as her hair and her skinny-ness._

_Thank you for reviewing.  
Thank you even more for reading. I suck at leaving reviews on stories at all, all I ever do is put it on alert. So I can totally understand that there have probably been a lot of you who hasn't once left a message.  
Since this is the last chapter, maybe you'll make an exception?  
And if my eyes pop and I drop my chin next time I check my inbox, I promise I will be better at leaving a review as well._

_Thank you again, so much.  
That can't be said too many times. Thank you!_

_If you like my style, there's always more, like Zenith to read.  
And if you just want to chat, send me a message. I'm a very awkward pen pall, over-analyzes everything, but I promise to make an effort if anyone feels like talking._

_With Love  
Cassandra_


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